


Complexity

by CanonCannon



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow Jobs, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent (due to accidental drug use), First Time, Hand Jobs, I Have Lost My Goddamn Mind Apparently, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Other, Smuttiest Smut I've Ever Smutted, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-09-16 05:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16947663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanonCannon/pseuds/CanonCannon
Summary: Jesus's hair was pulled back tight, letting Daryl see every detail. And fuck, he wanted to see it, Aaron’s dick disappearing into that mouth as his hips bucked. Jesus’s abs and biceps flexing.Daryl’s pants were far, far too tight, dick pressing uncomfortably against his zip. He undid them. He had to, just to relieve the pressure.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted on tumblr by two anons.

The run was, not to put too fine a point on it, a shit show.

They were getting bolder now that the walkers were slow and mouldering, and had decided to take a look at a grocery store on the outskirts of D.C. Tara had noted it once on one of her farthest runs. The inside looked untouched, aside from the inconvenient hoard of walkers stumbling around inside.

No one had been stupid enough to raid it–no one, that is, until Daryl, Jesus, and Aaron decided to give it a go. They tried to keep the doorway jammed so the dead would stumble out one at a time. Things started to fall apart as soon as the door started to fall apart.

They’d thought they could handle it until Aaron turned to get some water and saw another herd stumbling their way, already dangerously close to blocking the path back to their truck.

Groaning, exhausted from fighting, the three men bolted across the strip mall for the nearest house, a small, older house a quarter of a block away. Daryl managed to snatch up his crossbow on the fly, and Aaron scooped up his pack.

Jesus arrived at the house first. He yanked open a cellar door—when possible, basements were a safer bet—and they piled in, bolting and blockading the door behind them.

“God damn it,” Daryl said, kicking uselessly at a tacky velvet couch. There were some water bottles and a lava lamp on a small table beside it, plus a huge bean bag chair and a ratty armchair that Aaron had dragged over to help block the door. Other than that and a few tacky posters, the room was empty.

Still panting hard, Daryl grabbed a water bottle and chucked it to Jesus, who looked like he was melting in his long coat. The man downed three quarters of the bottle in one gulp before handing it off to Aaron and stripping his coat. He threw himself dramatically to the carpeted floor as Aaron drank and Daryl opened another bottle.

“Think it’ll hold?” Aaron asked, facing the door warily. They could hear the moaning and pounding, only slightly muffled, above them.

“Yeah,” Daryl said, getting close to inspect it again. “S’good construction, not that shoddy shit you see in track homes. Deadbolted, too. We just gotta wait ‘em out.”

“I’m good with waiting,” Jesus said from the floor. “But I hope no one comes along in the meantime and pillages that store. I earned those stale Fruit Loops.”

“You’ll get ‘em,” Daryl said calmly, dropping his crossbow and sitting in the chair against the door. He’d be the first to know if anything fell through.

–

They’d been sitting mostly in silence for about fifteen minutes when Jesus said slowly, “Guys, I think I might be sick.”

“Sick?” Daryl asked, looking up quick as Aaron snorted back awake on the couch. “Were you bit, or-”

“No,” Jesus said, but his hands started traveling around his stomach as though to check. “No, but I feel… something. Something is off.” He moved to stand up and immediately swayed, struggling to catch his balance.

That had Aaron off the couch and at his side in a flash. “Hey! Hey, lay back down. Do you want some more water?”

“No, I’m…” he paused, head rolling back slightly on the floor. His hand continued petting at his stomach, slipping under his shirt. “I’m not thirsty, I’m just… I’m… fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Daryl and Aaron exchanged uneasy glances.

“You’ll be ok,” Daryl said meaninglessly as he got closer, noting Jesus’s clammy-looking skin. Then he caught a glimpse of his eyes, their usual blue-green swallowed in black pupil. “What the hell? Are you- are you fucking _high_ right now?”

“Of course not,” Jesus said, sounding outraged. “I’ve been… I’ve been right here, how could I…” and he got distracted looking at his own gloved hand.

“He’s fucking high,” Daryl decided, turning to Aaron. “There’s a herd up there, and he’s- what the _hell_ is he thinking, coming out here and-”

Aaron cut him off, looking horrified. “Oh god, Daryl, I think… I don’t think he did it. Because now I’m feeling weird, too.” Looking around, his eyes landed on the empty water bottle by the couch. There was real panic in his face when he turned back to Daryl.

“Shit,” Daryl said. He gestured for Aaron to sit and his friend slumped to the floor next to Jesus, who was staring around with his owlishly big eyes.

For the first time, Daryl noticed that the posters around the room are some kind of cheap-looking psychedelic crap.

The lava lamp. Fucking hell.

“Liquid ecstasy. Ravers put it in distilled water bottles sometimes…” Jesus said dreamily, echoing Daryl’s suspicions. Then he turned on his stomach and scooted closer to Aaron. “You alright? _All_ -right?” He stretched the ‘a’ sound.

“No, I’m not alright.” He sounded downright panicked. “What if we just overdosed? What if we invite the walkers in for dinner because we’re stoned out of our minds?”

“It’s called rolling, I think, when it's ecstasy. Not stoned. And I don't think it would be very potent after so long sitting in the water,” Jesus replied. He reached out and touched Aaron’s beard. “I did it a couple times before the Turn…” He stopped speaking and instead tangled his hand fully in the beard, smiling vaguely.

“Seems potent enough,” Daryl said, still standing over them. “I drank out of a different bottle… still feel alright.”

“This is bad,” Aaron fretted. He was ignoring Jesus, who was sprawled on his side next to him playing with the collar of his shirt. “This is bad. This is so bad. I’ve never done drugs, I don’t-” Then Jesus’s hand drifted from his collar to his lips, silencing him for a moment. “That feels… odd. On my lips.”

“Feels good,” Jesus said, and lurched forward to kiss him, hand running freely down his chest.

Aaron leaned away, looking helplessly at Daryl, who was suddenly pained by a sizzling stab of jealousy. It didn’t seem like the first time the two men had kissed. Ignoring it, he shrugged at Aaron. “He’s smaller, and he guzzled that water. It’s gonna hit him fast and hard.”

“Fast and hard,” Jesus repeated. He reached for Aaron’s belt. When Aaron smacked him away, he settled for stroking the other man’s dick through his jeans instead.

Aaron flushed and cut eye contact with Daryl a moment too late. “He’s going to be really embarrassed about this later,” he said as he captured Jesus’s hand to stop him.

Daryl’s mouth was dry as a bone, his heart was racing, and he thought he was starting to sweat. He honest to God couldn’t tell whether he’d also ingested the drug, or whether seeing Jesus like this was just triggering his fight-or-flight reflex.

Jesus was now teasing Aaron’s nipple through his shirt, making it peak, and Aaron groaned, only half protesting. “Paul. Paul, this really- really isn’t the time.”

“You feel good,” Jesus insisted, slinging a leg over Aaron’s. He reached for Aaron’s belt again, and Daryl realized with horror that this time Aaron wasn’t going to stop him.

Quickly Daryl backed away, completely out of his depth, and stumbled into the chair against the door again. He was supposed to be sitting there, keeping them all safe. The fact that the chair faced Jesus and Aaron on the floor together was- was-

Christ, Daryl had never even let himself look at gay porn. He turned his face away and closed his eyes.

The drugs were obviously taking Aaron, now, too. He made a few half-hearted protests, but soon Daryl heard a wet sound, and after that all protests died off. They were followed by short bursts of “oh” and “yes” and, worst of all, “Paul.”

Head spinning, dick aching shamefully, Daryl squirmed. He kept his eyes averted as long as he could, but suddenly Aaron shouted, startling him into looking.

The sight in front of him made him whine under his breath.

Aaron was laying on his back, clothed except that his jeans and boxers had been tugged down to his ankles. His face was flushed, eyes shut tight. It took a long moment for Daryl to realize why he’d shouted—Jesus’s hand was working between his legs, fingering his ass.

Jesus was shirtless, leaning over him, sucking his dick in slow motion. God, he was savoring it. Swallowing around it, tonguing it, rubbing it on his face. Hollowing his cheeks, making a mess. Like he was completely single-minded, only thinking about the cock in his mouth.

His hair was pulled back tight, letting Daryl see every detail. And fuck, he wanted to see it, Aaron’s dick disappearing into that mouth as his hips bucked. Jesus’s abs and biceps flexing.

Daryl’s pants were far, far too tight, dick pressing uncomfortably against his zip. He undid them. He had to, just to relieve the pressure.

Aaron heard and looked over. When he saw Daryl touching himself–just a little, just a couple of strokes, God it felt _so fucking good_ –he moaned loudly and came, his hand holding Jesus’s head still. It seemed to last for ages, making Jesus choke slightly on his come.

When Jesus sat up Daryl snapped out of it some, enough to pull his hand away from his crotch and pretend, stupidly, like he hadn’t been watching. He noticed for the first time that his own skin felt tingly, that the coarse fabric of the armchair was scratchy in a soothing kind of way, that the dim light seemed to stretch like taffy around him.

Oh, good. He was high as well.

That made things easier.

“It’s ok,” Aaron said weakly from the floor. He’d pulled his pants halfway up. Jesus was touching himself now, one hand rubbing lightly at his dick and the other on his neck and chest. The guy looked high out of his mind.

“It’s ok,” Aaron repeated, comforting. He crawled closer to Daryl. “Don’t be upset, it’s fine-” And, still looking more comforting than desirous, he took Daryl’s dick into his hand. “See, you’re ok,” he said again, like a mantra, as he began to stroke, leaning into Daryl’s lap with his prosthetic arm.

It felt more intense than any hand job had a right to feel, and Daryl knew it was the drugs but didn’t care anymore. Christ, it was so good, sparking up his spine in waves, the callouses on Aaron’s hand just the right side of rough. And then Jesus was there, too—Aaron’s hand and Jesus’s mouth at once, Jesus licking at his tip—then there were two mouths on him, tongues tangling against his dick, and he had to look away as he came harder than he’d ever come in his life, not sure whose mouth covered him in that last moment.

He was still dazed, utterly blissed out, when a tongue traced his mouth. He opened for it lazily and registered, in a distant sort of way, that he could taste come. The mouth was velvety and warm, though, and Daryl lapped into it, moaning.

The buttons on his shirt were undone, his nipples teased while a beard scratched his face. Then someone guided his hand up to silky skin, and he touched and pulled until warmth exploded across his stomach.

—

“Am I dead?” Aaron asked, voice a little above a whisper. “It feels like I’m probably dead.”

The question woke Jesus up from where he was buried in the oversized beanbag chair. He blinked around the room slowly. He was in his boxers, and it tasted like something died in his mouth. He didn’t immediately recognize the room they were in.

He was about to ask Aaron what the hell happened when the memories rippled through his mind.

“You aren’t dead, but I think you’re about to wish you were.”

Aaron groaned heavily. Peering over, Jesus saw that he’d slept on the floor, ignoring the unoccupied couch to his left. His belt was open and his shoes were off, but other than that he was clothed.

Right. Because Jesus had been the instigator.

He beat his head pointlessly against the beanbag chair once. Twice.

Jesus had had threesomes before, a couple of times in his twenties. He knew Aaron hadn’t, though, and Daryl—Jesus suspected that last night was his first time with a man.

 _Men_ , Jesus corrected himself, and let his head smack the beanbag chair again. _Plural._

Daryl was crashed out asleep on the recliner by the door. Jesus nudged Aaron with his foot and nodded towards him. “If we can sneak past him and get a good head start, maybe we’ll make it to Hilltop alive.”

“Ain’t gonna kill you,” the older man growled without moving or opening his eyes. He was also still mostly dressed, though his shirt was unbuttoned all the way down. A bit of hair and tattoo peaked out.

Jesus remembered coming all over that stomach last night. He let his head thwack the soft beanbag again.

“Really?” Aaron asked. He was feeling blindly around the floor by his head—probably for their pack, which was unfortunately several feet away from him.

“Can’t kill you if I’m too embarrassed to look at you,” Daryl said dryly.

The sardonic tone was a relief. Jesus knew Aaron would be incredibly embarrassed—he knew Aaron, period. He could predict his reaction.

Daryl, on the other hand, was proving to be completely unpredictable.

“You guys had done, uh. Done that before. Together, I mean,” he said next, eyes still closed.

 _Interesting_ , Jesus thought fuzzily through his hang over, _that that's the first thing on Daryl's mind just now_.

“Yeah,” Aaron said.

“I haven’t, much, you know?” Daryl finally looked at them, his face bright red. “I’m sorry that I-”

“Don’t,” Aaron said firmly, tilting his head off the floor to catch Daryl’s eyes.

“This wasn’t anyone’s fault,” Jesus added.

They subsided into silence for awhile, all of them feeling too exhausted and shitty and hung over to move yet.

—

Later, when they were in the truck on the way back to Hilltop with a fantastic load of supplies and food behind them, Aaron asked into the awkward silence, “Alright, when are we going to talk about it?”

“Fucking never,” Daryl said immediately. He hadn’t stopped blushing and cringing away from them the whole day.

Catching Aaron’s eye, Jesus said in a serious tone, “Fine. Then I’m just going to say what we’re all thinking.”

He could see Daryl preparing himself for the worst.

“Paul…” Aaron started, but Jesus interrupted with a mischievous grin.

“How is our second date _ever_ going to top that?”

Daryl spluttered, Aaron threw back his head and laughed—and Jesus thought he might have a pretty good shot, actually.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't come here looking for plot, folks.

“We don’t want to overwhelm him,” Aaron said, pacing.

“Of course,” Jesus agreed.

Except it was a lie. He absolutely wanted to overwhelm Daryl. He’d thought of little else since that run two weeks ago.

Well, he’d also thought about Aaron being the one to to overwhelm Daryl—polite Aaron, with his buckets of self-control, finally giving in to temptation and debauching the other man.

Jesus realized that his breathing had sped up. He was half-hard.

Aaron, bless him, was still talking.

“I just want to be sure he wants this. _Very_ sure. He doesn’t really seem like the, um, the type. To, you know, go for this kind of arrangement.” He was blushing adorably. At root, Aaron probably wasn’t ‘the type,’ either, in most circumstances. He was a little more conservative in his love life than most gay men Jesus had met.

“Aaron, if he shows up tonight, he wants it. He knew what I meant when I invited him over. I wasn’t all that subtle.”

Aaron made an unsurprised noise.

“And that night... God, you should have seen the look on his face when you started touching him. He wants this,” Jesus said emphatically.

“I’m still going to talk to him first.”

“Of course,” Jesus repeated neutrally. He saw Aaron adjust himself surreptitiously, but chose not to comment.

—

Daryl showed up more than half an hour late.

He was visibly nervous, slinking around like the trailer was enemy territory. He looked nice, though, and Jesus knew that would make Aaron feel better. It meant that Daryl had thought ahead, considered things, felt all the discomfort and awkwardness that were now so plain on his face... and then he had showered and put on something clean.

“How’s this gonna work?” he asked bluntly, pretending to look at something on the bookshelf.

“How do you want it to work? Is there something that you’d like to try?” Aaron said.

Daryl was silent.

Aaron persisted, “Anything you’ve fantasized about?”

More silence as Daryl bit his thumbnail, still mostly facing the bookshelf.

“I think we need some liquor,” Jesus said, standing. “Not a lot—don’t look at me like that, Aaron—just a bit. Get some of the nerves out.”

“Yeah,” Daryl agreed quickly.

“Take off your shoes,” Paul said, with what he hoped was an encouraging smile, even as Aaron began to protest.

“If we can’t do this sober, we shouldn’t be doing it at all.”

“Well that ship’s fucking sailed,” Daryl replied, finally deigning to sit down and unlace his boots. He didn’t take the empty place Jesus had left on the couch beside Aaron, but a chair on the far side of the room.

“Ever done a belly shot?” Jesus asked, even though he was already pouring a couple of shots worth of moonshine into three mason jars.

“What’s that?”

“Not important,” Aaron said, shooting Jesus a wry look and accepting his glass. He took a sip. Daryl and Jesus both swallowed theirs down in one gulp.

“How’s this gonna work?” Daryl asked again. He’d started pacing after drinking the moonshine, too keyed up to sit for long.

“Um, is there anything you don’t like?” Aaron asked, taking a slightly different tack.

“Don’t think so,” he responded, then after a beat added, “Fuck, Aaron, I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.”

Sensing a flight risk, Jesus said quickly, “Hey, that’s fine. We can figure it out as we go, alright? Just please tell us right away if you don’t like something we try, and we’ll do the same. Ok?”

Daryl nodded with his eyes glued to the floor. He'd had trouble even _looking_ at Jesus since he came through the door--all questions were directed squarely at Aaron.

Catching Aaron’s eyes, Jesus jerked his head: _time to make your move_. Biting his lip, Aaron set down his unfinished drink and met Daryl in the middle of the room, causing him to go statue-still.

They’d agreed that it should be Aaron; it was the only thing they'd planned beforehand.

He kissed Daryl, tipping his chin up with a single finger, and Daryl rose to his tip-toes to meet him. Aaron broke the kiss to whisper something in Daryl’s ear, then took his mouth again, soft and sultry, somehow sending sparks down Jesus’s spine from several feet away.

The effect on Daryl was immediate. His body loosened and uncoiled as he let Aaron lead. His cheeks reddened and his hands balled into fists at his sides for just a moment before relaxing.

They were standing far enough apart that Jesus could see the outline of Aaron’s hardening dick in his jeans. He wanted to walk over and rub it, get him well and truly desperate. Or, alternatively, Jesus wanted to get Daryl worked up... see him forget his embarrassment, maybe even beg Aaron for more as his friend respectfully restrained himself.

Fuck. He wanted to see both of them lose their cool, go at each other like animals. He pictured Aaron fucking Daryl hard, bending him over the bed, Daryl’s crying out in surprise and confusion at how much he liked it.

 _He doesn’t even know what he likes yet_ , Jesus reminded himself, thinking of all the many things implied by that fact. He took a deep breath, head falling back on the couch, eyes still locked on the men standing in the middle of the room. He wanted those scenarios, sure, but what he saw instead was beautiful: Daryl kissing Aaron back firmly, arms limp at his side, eyes crinkled like kissing required all his attention. Aaron’s hand was rubbing a soothing circle on Daryl’s shoulder, encouraging Daryl to lean into him more and more.

Jesus remembered that Daryl had barely touched either of them, last time--his hands had been clawed into the arms of the chair until after he’d come, and then Jesus had wrapped his own hand around one of Daryl's and basically used it to jack off, without so much as a by-your-leave. Deciding to take a chance, Jesus said, “Touch him, Daryl. Look at him, he wants you too.” 

Daryl startled a little, and Aaron gave a small shake of his head. “You don’t-”

But Daryl was already doing it, putting his hands flat on Aaron’s chest, sliding them up and down a bit, then around to his hips.

Breathing out shakily, Aaron pulled him in more forcefully so they were chest to chest.

Jesus couldn’t stand it anymore. He went to stand behind Daryl, pulling his shirt off as he went, and slid a hand around his waist, having to work it in between the two men who were now making out feverishly without paying him any mind at all. He teased around Daryl’s hips and belly, enjoying the man’s little gasp into Aaron’s mouth whenever his hand got close to his zip.

Aaron broke the kiss and turned Daryl around in his arms, and then Jesus was taking his face in his hands and kissing him instead, able to taste Aaron on his lips.

\--

Daryl wasn’t high this time, but it felt like he was.

He’d been kissing Aaron, then before he knew what was happening it was Jesus there instead--a smaller mouth, a less scratchy beard. Jesus was, predictably, a pushier kisser. Aaron’s kiss had been deep, intense, and drugging, but Jesus’s was dizzying and tricky, less focused, with little bites to his lower lip and brief excursions to his jaw and ear.

Daryl let his hands settle somewhere on the other man’s back. Jesus wasn’t wearing a shirt and Daryl’s hands immediately got greedier, smoothing over soft skin and, Christ, surprisingly firm muscles.

Shit. He was with a man, two men, with hard muscles and big beards and hairy chests that he wanted to bite. Definitely nothing womanly about them. He was going to have sex with two dudes. The idea still seemed foreign, shameful. He'd never thought he'd ever actually fuck a guy--like being queer didn’t count, if it only happened in his head.

Fuck that. The world had ended. Maybe he’d ask them run a fucking train on him. 

Then Jesus pressed close, hard against his thigh, and the feeling was so new that Daryl leaned away from it instinctively, only to find himself pressing back against Aaron’s dick, just as hard and pressed against his ass and hip.

Aaron moaned and his hips jerked forward, pushing him back against Jesus, and they were both just so goddamn close, surrounding him. And shit, what if Aaron thought Daryl had done it on purpose, wiggled his ass against his dick like- like-

Christ, he was going to pass out.

But Aaron had his arm across his chest, supporting him, and then Jesus’s hands were suddenly cupping beneath his ass--not squeezing or anything, just there.

Even if he passed out, one of them would catch him.

Daryl opened his eyes, but Jesus’s were closed. Damn. He’d wanted to see them.

Aaron was grinding against him now, even as Jesus greedily tried to pull so he could rub their dicks together. It was all a mess, no rhythm at all.

On television there was usually rhythm in these situations.

Daryl realized belatedly that Aaron actually wasn’t really supporting him with his arm, but was instead rubbing his nipple gently, almost imperceptibly. Daryl wondered how long he’d been doing it, heightening his arousal without him even noticing.

He wasn’t going to be able to keep this up for much longer. His dick was hot with need against some part of Jesus--Paul, maybe, given the circumstances--and he didn’t want to come without at least sucking somebody’s cock first, because who knew if they’d ever let him join them like this again?

Breaking the kiss, Daryl tried to gesture towards the bed. Then his grasp on his self control completely broke when Jesus crouched low in front of him instead. 

\--

Aaron found himself suddenly supporting half of Daryl’s weight as the other man went literally weak in the knees.

He couldn’t blame him. Paul  was kneeling in front of him, chest heaving, face tipped up, hand massaging Daryl’s dick firmly through his jeans.

Breath stuttering out of his chest, Aaron hurried to undo Daryl’s zip, still a little clumsy at it with just the one hand.

“Fuck...” Daryl said desperately, voice almost a sob, when Aaron began stroking him slowly from root to tip.

Paul sat back on his knees, not touching Daryl anymore at all, just watching as Aaron’s hand worked his dick inches from his face. “What do you want to happen next, Daryl?”

A stream of profanities followed.

“Rude,” Paul said, smiling devilishly. “Aaron? Any thoughts?”

“Suck him,” Aaron said. He was surprised at how hoarse he sounded.

And Paul did, for a minute, twirling his tongue over Aaron’s fingers before focusing on the tip. Aaron held Daryl’s cock for him, and let himself press against Daryl’s ass again.

But Daryl was clearly going to come if they didn’t give him a break soon.

“Let’s get undressed,” Aaron murmured before sucking at his neck. He and Paul both released him, and to Aaron’s surprise Daryl immediately turned and kissed him hard, hands exploring a little at his waistband before tugging his henley up over his head.

Then Daryl jumped. “Jesus, what the fuck-”

“What?” Paul said innocently from behind him, where he was still kneeling. He’d pulled Daryl’s jeans down to his ankles, and Aaron was willing to bet-

“He bit my ass!”

Yep.

“It was right there!” Paul defended himself, standing. “And I’ve wanted to do it for years!”

“The fuck you have,” Daryl replied, real incredulity in his voice as he stepped out of his jeans and underwear. Aaron had expected him to be shy about that, but he didn’t seem bothered in the least.

“It’s one of many things I’ve wanted to do to your ass since I met you... I started out just wanting beat your ass, sure, but things evolved pretty quickly from there.”

Eyebrows creased, Daryl turned back to Aaron, only to come up short and stare flatteringly at his pecs and shoulders.

Paul noticed and bit his lip mischievously, running his small hand over Aaron’s shoulder and partway down his amputated arm before taking Daryl’s hand and placing it on him as well. Daryl tentatively thumbed his nipple, which made Paul lick his lips and reach for Aaron’s belt buckle.

His pants and boxers dropped, and then Daryl did, too, leaning in quickly to lick and mouth inexpertly at Aaron’s cock like he thought they might pull it away from him.

Eyebrows raised, Aaron glanced at Paul, too surprised to fully enjoy the soft, wet heat beginning to envelope him.

Paul didn’t answer Aaron’s look. Instead he knelt next to Daryl. “Do you like it?”

God, Daryl _moaned_. He wasn’t taking Aaron in very deep, but the vibration still made his toes curl.

“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you? You’ve wondered what it would taste like, feel like...” Paul took Daryl’s right hand and positioned it around the base of Aaron’s dick, then put the other on his ass. Aaron thought he was going to continue teaching Daryl; instead he leaned in and nipped at Daryl’s ear. “You look gorgeous sucking cock.”

Aaron wanted to agree, but couldn’t think of how to say it. Paul was much better at dirty talk.

Now Daryl was trying to go too deep, choking himself a little. He wasn’t skilled enough to suck at the same time, and Aaron was biting his tongue to keep from begging him to focus on that instead.

Paul didn’t stop him gagging himself, either. He let him do it, and moved his hand from Daryl’s shoulders down to his dick, the angle a little awkward. “Aaron, he’s leaking- he loves this- Daryl, do you want to come like this? With Aaron’s cock down your throat?”

Daryl gasped around Aaron, but didn’t seem to want to pull off long enough to answer. He was trembling a little, his eyes closed.

\--

Daryl had jacked off thinking about this so many times--sometimes thinking about Aaron, specifically--and being allowed to do it, actually having a gorgeous man’s dick in his mouth, was making him frantic.

“Can I take your shirt off?” Jesus asked in his ear, hands already tangling in the fabric. Daryl pulled off of Aaron, catching his breath and staring at how wet and red and hard his dick was. Then he realized that Jesus had gotten his pants off sometime while he was distracted, and his attention fixated there, next--his pubic hair was neatly trimmed, dick just a little smaller than Aaron’s.

Daryl wanted to suck it, too.

He was losing his goddamn mind.

“Yeah,” he grunted, remembering that Jesus had asked him... something, who the fuck cared what.

His shirt came off over his head. He thought a second too late about the scars covering his back, but Jesus seemed to take them in stride. The only evidence he even saw them was the quick little downtick of his mouth.

"I think I have an idea,” Jesus said. “Aaron, sit on the bed... and...” Not shy at all, Jesus nudged Daryl until he was on his knees in front of Aaron.

Jesus leaned over and grabbed lube from the bedside cabinet, then positioned himself behind Daryl, whose pulse skyrocketed all over again.

“Just... like this, if that’s, um, ok.” He got behind Daryl and slide his dick between Daryl’s thighs, rubbing up just under his balls. “And then you...” He bent Daryl over gently, so that his ass was sticking out with his head in Aaron’s lap. “What do you guys think?”

It was awful close to being fucked by two men at once.

“Daryl?” Aaron asked.

Instead of answering, Daryl went back to sucking his dick, enjoying the way he groaned and rocked his hips.

\--

Jesus wasn’t used to trying to get off like this, between someone's thighs, but he wasn’t complaining. The view was worth it.

In front of him, Aaron was clearly struggling, flushed to his chest with his hand hovering over Daryl’s hair. Daryl wasn’t experienced at sucking cock, his movements uneven as he stopped to breath and readjust, but Aaron was desperately turned on--it was written all over his face.

Aaron's eyes were on Jesus, and from that perspective it must look like he was plowing into Daryl’s ass. Jesus pushed forward a little harder, a little faster.

Daryl moaned beneath him, ass and legs clenching, and that was Jesus done. He came between Daryl's thighs, head hanging over his back, listening to Daryl whimper and gag a little because his final thrust had pushed him further down on Aaron’s cock.

Only a few moments passed before Aaron lost his ironclad control and held Daryl's head still, pumping into his mouth. Still coming down from his own high, Jesus had the presence of mind to reach around and put his slightly-slick hand on Daryl’s cock, which immediately pulsed in his grip as Daryl shook beneath him.

Afterwards, Aaron dragged Daryl to the bed like a ragdoll and held him against his chest. “I’m sorry I lost control like that, at the end.”

“S’fine.” Daryl sounded drowsy.

Feeling a little like an intruder, Jesus went to get a wet washcloth from the bathroom. He wiped himself and handed it to Daryl over Aaron’s head.

“Get over here,” Aaron said, before he could begin fretting about whether to join them on the bed. Jesus did, climbing in so that Aaron was in the middle.

“Was that ok?” Daryl asked quietly.

“That was some of the best sex I’ve ever had in my life,” Aaron said, and Jesus made a tired noise of agreement behind him. He was already falling asleep.

“Well, if y’all ever want... like, if you want to again, sometime, I’d be-”

“We want to,” Jesus said. “As soon as possible. Three hours, tops.”

Aaron kicked him gently in the shin, but Jesus could hear Daryl’s relief in his huffed laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, Aaron whispered “I’m really glad you decided to come” after kissing Daryl, without a hint of double entendre is his pure little heart.
> 
> I'd imagine the emotional side of this thruple would take longer to settle, and for awhile Daryl would view himself as an outsider to Jaaron’ sexual relationship and Jesus would simultaneously view himself as an outsider to Daaron's friendship.

**Author's Note:**

> The one and only time I'm ever writing a threesome.
> 
> The title is a joke with brightlikeloulou, whose Jaaryl fic is called Simplicity, because I did not find Jaaryl simple to write. Go check it out!!


End file.
